


Forget the Past (Remember Me)

by cruelest_month



Series: Samson & Del [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, Multi, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After almost losing Amell at Adamant, Cullen realizes it's time to overcome and correct the mistakes of his past. </p><p>(Although the focus is on different characters, this takes place in the same AU as Samson & Del fics. Samson works for the Inquisition.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

*

“Where’s Amell?” Cullen found himself demanding after the rift had closed. It was an obvious question with an obvious answer. Even if it hadn’t been painfully clear none of those returning from the Fade were wearing Grey Warden armor, Bull looked slightly sad and Dorian looked just shy of furious.

Hawke glared at Trevelyan who shrunk under the expression, retreating closer to Samson. “We left him.”

“He is fighting the fear demon,” Cassandra corrected. “He allowed us to escape. This will weaken Corypheus. Assuming Amell is successful.”

Cullen looked to where the rift had been. He couldn’t think of a damned thing to say. He swallowed hard, wishing it didn’t matter as he always wished it didn’t matter. And it shouldn’t have. The words he exchanged with the Grey Warden had been brief and most of them awkward.

“And that makes it all worth it?” Hawke asked. “Trading in our best chance at doing the most damage to a mad man so that we could escape?”

“We still have the Inquisitor,” Cassandra said. “We still have you.”

“You have a boy who is doing his best at a time when we needed a man well-past learning,” Hawke replied. “And you have me for what little good it’ll do you. My problem-solving skills would barely fill a thimble. You threw away the one man who—”

“No choice would have been the right choice.”

Hawke laughed bitterly. “Then congratulations on still finding a way to make the wrong one. Tell me… How many Archdemons have you killed, Seeker? How many has your beloved Herald put down to date?”

“Amell did not consult any of us,” Del said quietly. “He looked at the situation and he made the decision, Hawke. It was his choice. To speak poorly of his sacrifice now… I mean, it was his oath…”

Hawke’s glare softened, but he said nothing.

“Does he have to be dead then?” Bull asked with a frown. “I mean, geez, the guy’s basalit-an. If he could save the world once, he can take out some demon.”

“This isn’t merely some demon,” Dorian snapped. “This is the source of much of Corypheus’ power. What do you imagine he will do? Stab the thing a couple of times, watch it die and then do what? Make a nice home there in the Fade for himself with some lovely desire demon?”

Bull snorted. “Can’t he just kill it and come back. He’s magic.”

“Magic or not, we just closed the fucking exit on him,” Hawke said.

“So he punches another hole in the Fade,” Bull insisted. “He’s a hero. Heroes can do that.”

“Yes, well…” Dorian sighed heavily. “That is, of course, the outcome we would like, but it is not… Heroes also… ”

“Don’t,” Samson said. He set a hand on Del’s shoulder and considered Cullen. “No sense assuming anything yet.”

Cullen moved away, scanning the area. Soldiers and Grey Wardens were milling about, a bit of tension and suspicion but not much more than that. They all eyed him as he passed by the tents where healers tended to the wounded and dying. He imagined both groups were waiting to receive the all-clear in terms of victory cheers and the like. Well, they wouldn’t get it from him. The best he could manage was a nod while somewhere behind him circular arguments continued between Hawke, Samson, and Dorian.

“It would be him,” a young Grey Warden was saying. She was studying the ground as her companions looked at their hands. “He would stay. He would die because of us.”

“At least he was a hero,” another one said. “Doesn’t have to live knowing… Well, he doesn’t have to live as whatever we are.”

“Failures,” the third put in. “What’s happened is unforgivable. Maker’s Breath. Just wait and see what they do with us now.”

On a different sort of evening, Cullen might have felt sorry for them. He might have said something to them explaining that, as far as he was aware, Inquisitor Trevelyan had never met a lost cause he couldn’t salvage. Not in so many words, but that would have been the gist of it. Instead, he left them to their doubts and self-deprecation.

Let them worry a little longer, he thought, sit with the consequence of so many ill-conceived actions. When you are forced to learn from grief or anger or fear, then you’re learning your lesson the hard way.

Or you didn’t. You just kept making the same mistakes and sifting through the same regrets.

Cullen stopped, far enough away from the others that he could see them but not hear them. He needed a moment. To think. He could allow himself to think.

Even with his eyes closed, he saw Amell lowering his hood. Saw a nervousness flicker in those dark eyes before it was replaced with a warmth. Then the sincere, kind, forgiving smile. And the questions. _Cullen? Then… Are you better? And the statements. I hope… That is… Never mind. It’s good to see you_.

Cullen had thought the words would come spilling from his lips. _I’m sorry. Forgive me. You might not remember but I can’t forget how I treated you. How I thought you were less than a person, and I know now that I was wrong. There was—is— this anger inside of me, real as any demon but slower at consumption. So very slow. Else I’d have burned up long ago_.

Instead he’d said nothing. Instead he’d watched Amell make friends quickly with Trevelyan, Dorian, Bull, and nearly everyone else. He’d kept his distance, managing a nod every so often but not much besides.

There was a loud sound like thunder as lightning struck the ground. In the space between Cullen and where the others still weighed their options, something bright and yellow seemed to punch out of the air like a massive fist. A rift opened, unstable and crackling.

“Told you!” Bull shouted as Amell teetered out of it.

The rift closed, tearing the silverite griffin from Amell’s armor-clad shoulder and taking it back with it into the Fade. Amell sank to his knees, gasping, his fingers digging into the ground as he struggled not to fall face-first against it.

His staff was gone, and his hands were shaking. Gouges, most likely from large bite marks, covered his arms and legs. Something green and black oozed from the wounds and from the corner of his lips. The left side of his face was covered in blood.

Cullen was the first to get to him. His initial reaction was to avoid whatever it was all over Amell’s skin, so instead of touching him, he tugged off what was left of Amell’s cloak. Cullen wrapped it around the slighter man’s shoulders and then picked him up. “He’s going to need—"

“Get a fucking healer,” Hawke shouted. “Now!”

“That,” Cullen finished.

Amell huffed in something that sounded vaguely like a laugh. And then he was silent. When Cullen glanced down, it was clear he’d blacked out.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is shorter than the others so I'll post the second chapter shortly.
> 
> Thank you, TCRegan and BakaKnight for putting up with the endless drafts/revisions of this fic. And also, thank you, TCRegan for the title and for the summary! 
> 
> I've always loved the Warden from DAO and I really love Cullen's story arc as a whole. And I really wanted to write something for this pairing. I hope it makes for enjoyable reading.


	2. Chapter 2

*

Whatever his shortcomings as an Inquisitor-- and Sweet Andraste only knew how many-- Del was a skilled potions maker. Taking samples from one of Amell’s arms, he was able to make an anti-venom. The rest was up to several healers. Two of them were mages from Redcliffe and the other two were from the Grey Wardens. All of them worked tirelessly and valiantly to patch Amell up.  
Despite having no real reason to remain at Amell’s side, that was precisely where Cullen stayed. He dealt with scouts and minor operations, but not much else.

“There is something profoundly wrong with you. This is the time you pick to make your move? This is when you toss your proverbial hat in the proverbial ring?”

Cullen scowled, refusing to look up even as Samson sat down next to him. “Not now.”

“Yes now. You’re doing it precisely now, you daft mooncalf.”

“I am merely keeping an eye on him,” Cullen insisted. “Someone ought to.”

Samson laughed and nothing about it was particularly kind. “No shortage on someones, Rutherford. Bull and Dorian have been playing tug-of-war over him ever since he arrived. You don’t think they might want to sit here?”

“I don’t think I care.”

“The real question is what will you do when he wakes up? Because it seems to me that you staying here only to run away when he opens his eyes… It’s a bit shitty.”

“I don’t plan on doing that.”

“He won’t need monosyllabic answers either. Or weird stammerings.”

“Sod off, Sam.”

“If you don’t like the sound of it, don’t do it.”

Cullen grunted a reply, which could have meant anything from yes to go sod off elsewhere. “I highly doubt Bull and Dorian are… Well, fighting over him.”

“Nah, they’re too busy doing other things together to fight.”

“Really?”

Samson shrugged. “I imagine it’s the whole enemies forbidden love type of nonsense. Some people can make that work.” _Some people not being you_ wasn’t said, but it was heavily implied.

“It’s easy for you,” Cullen said. “Del’s been flinging himself at you as if he owns Thedas’ most accurate trebuchet. And it’s been that way ever since you met.”

“It helps that we talked. You know, had a conversation and then fell into a bed. That’s all it takes.”

“When you’re quite simple,” Cullen muttered.

“When you’re not determined to be miserable and alone.” Samson shook his head then smirked. “Always figured that was going to be me. But here you are, the Inquisition’s golden boy, making everything so damned complicated for yourself.”

Amell gasped, and for a minute Cullen nearly bolted out of his chair. But the Warden’s eyes simply fluttered a bit before he curled in on himself, whimpering before he stilled.

“Poor thing,” Samson said, setting a hand on Amell’s cot and tugging a blanket over him. “Pretty. Dark skin. Dark eyes. Hm. Soft hair, I’d wager.”

Cullen shoved Samson’s hand away as it moved towards a braid of red hair. “Something is profoundly wrong _with_ you.”

“Not interested,” Samson protested. “Not outside of being curious. Your type’s always been a mystery to me.”

“My type,” Cullen echoed.

“Yeah, your type. Amell certainly seems to be it. Although he won’t be your person at this rate. Snails move faster than you.”

“Are snails that much better at holding conversations?”

Samson smirked. “They couldn’t be much worse.”

Cullen shrugged. “There is that.”

Samson got to his feet and punched Cullen’s shoulder. “Figure it out, eh? It’s painful watching you try to wrack that brain of yours for so much as a complete sentence. And there’s plenty of others eager to take your place.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

*

Amell stirred a few more times, all of it leading to nothing much. Healers came in, forcing water down his throat and checking his numerous bandages.

It took another day before he sat up, panicking slightly.

Cullen hesitated but managed to grab his arm before he could fall out of the cot. “It’s… It’s all right,” he said, wincing at how stupid he sounded.

“What’s happened? Are my people… Oh. Cullen.” Amell seemed baffled, but he didn’t sound upset. “Hello.”

“Hello. You had us all worried.”

Amell scanned the room.

“I, uh, felt I ought to stay. With you. Although there’s been a great deal to do here at Adamant.”

“We haven’t left?”

“The Inquisitor wanted to wait for you. To tell you what he’s decided.”

“He’s not very quick at decisions.”

“No, not entirely.”

“It takes time,” Amell said kindly. “I mean, he’s awfully young. So you stayed with me? That was good of you.”

“I was glad to, Warden-Commander Amell.”

Amell winced. “Oh, please. Matthias is fine. After all, if things do work out… I imagine we’ll be working together.”

Cullen blinked.

“You’re the leader of the Inquisition’s forces, and I suspect the Grey Wardens will be under the Inquisitor’s commands? At least that’s my hope.”

“Right.”

Matthias glanced at Cullen, his dark eyes wide with concern. “I do wish… That is, I hope we can manage to cooperate with one another. That the Inquisitor will understand or at least be willing to forgive those who have survived.” He looked down at his hands briefly before looking up at Cullen. “I know how you must feel about me, but you did stay here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cullen said, feeling stupid and awful and… well, awfully stupid. “What I mean to say is, of course we can work together. Furthermore, I was glad to stay. How I feel about you isn’t nearly as negative as you imagined. Quite the contrary. You’re a hero twice over, Amell.” Try as he might he couldn’t use the Warden’s first name. Not yet.

Amell seemed slightly pleased. “That’s a relief. Your good opinion matters to me. It matters to Del.”

While he was more than willing to believe that the Warden felt that way, Cullen remained privately skeptical of his opinion, good or bad, mattering to Del. But he decided merely nod in agreement.

“I know how it must seem but what’s happened… I was sincere when I said I was working towards an end for it. A means of breaking free of the taint in our blood. Once we’re back at Skyhold, I’d like to begin testing a cure of sorts. On myself, obviously.”  
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

Amell brought his knees up to his chest as he sighed. And coughed. “Everything seems to be that way, lately. I suppose it’s the way of the world. Or simply my line of work.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly.”

“Thirsty?”

Amell rested his chin against his knees for a minute, his expression pensive and a bit gloomy. “I… suppose,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“You don’t—”

“No, it’s all right. I’d take tea if any is available. Maybe something that could help me sleep? The healers could tell you what to bring.”

“Then I’ll get that and I’ll come back.”

Amell nodded.

Cullen wanted to go, and yet he didn’t. The disappointment was his doing even if Cullen wasn’t entirely sure how. No, that was a lie. It was just that he had no idea how to fix things. So he left.

He consulted both the healers and an amused Del. Then he returned with tea but hesitated near the entrance to the tent. When he finally lifted the tent flap slightly, Cullen saw that Amell-- Matthias-- had a guest.

Dorian was seated close to the cot. Dorian’s hand was on Matthias’s knee, stroking the clothed skin as though it were a kitten. Matthias was smiling shyly at him, looking a bit waifish in his tunic and bandages.

Putting the flap down silently, Cullen studied their silhouettes.

“Even with all of your skill… You ought to take more care.”

“I suppose so.”

“You had better. What a dull place this would be without you,” Dorian said in a low murmur. “You have to try a lot harder not to be so reckless.”

“Some might say I was brave.”

“Right. That oath of yours. What does it cover exactly?”

Matthias laughed. “Cover?”

“Just the heroics or…”

“I suppose it covers peace, victory, vigilance, death, sacrifice, and war.”

“Ah, it covers nothing at all.”

Matthias huffed quietly, the way he had when Cullen had been holding him. “Oh, I don’t know. It covers a great of what I’ve seen.”

“You should be treated to better sights.”

“I should, I suppose.”

“What if,” Dorian purred, “I had a few in mind?”

“I’d like that only… I’m not supposed to move.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary. I should be only too glad to do all of the work myself.”

Cullen shoved the flap out of the way and stormed in.

Dorian rolled his eyes even as he moved his hand away from Matthias’s side. “Hello, Commander.”

Matthias, for his part, did not seem particularly upset by the interruption. “Hello,” he said quietly, moving further back on the cot. “You’re back then.”

“Yes, here’s your tea. Elfroot and embrium. And crystal grace. Chamomile… I honestly can’t remember the rest.”

“I hope there’s not much more,” Dorian said, looking amused by Cullen’s somewhat stilted recitation of the herbs. “Sounds dreadful.”

“Thank you,” Matthias said, taking the mug from Cullen’s hand. His fingers were cold, and Cullen wished he could wrap his own around… No, no he didn’t. Only yes. Yes, he most certainly did.

“I thought to bring you food only I wasn’t sure…”

Matthias shook his head. “I don’t think it would do much good,” he said with a small smile. “Which must mean I’m terribly ill. Normally I’d be eating you out of house and home.”

“We’d have to let you, all things considered.”

Matthias chuckled. “You shouldn’t tell me how much you’d let me get away with, Cullen.”

“You’d find out sooner or later since we’ll be working together. Closely,” Cullen said, eyeing Dorian meaningfully.

“Like a dog with a bone,” Dorian muttered, getting to his feet. “Right, you are to drink that tea and rest. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Oh. Must you go?”

“I must,” Dorian said, leaning down and kissing Matthias’s cheek. “If Cullen is staying.”

Cullen kept himself from flinching as Matthias considered him. It was difficult when the gaze was so warm and understanding.

“I won’t send him away,” Matthias said, smiling at Cullen and touching Dorian’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No need for that,” Dorian said, brushing back one of Matthias’s braids. “You’ve explained it once before. You just concentrate on feeling better, and allow me back in tomorrow. Or better yet come for a walk with me. And Bull. He’d be in here now but it’s such a tiny space and he’s the clumsiest ox alive.”

“I should be able to manage it tomorrow. I need to speak to the Herald and there’s to be a memorial. For the fallen.”

“I’ll take you to it.”

“Thank you.”

Dorian smirked, tugging Matthias’s hand up to him and kissing the back of it. “Any time.”

Cullen sat down, glaring at Dorian as he left. Then he leaned forward, considering his hands as Matthias drank his tea.

“I’m sorry,” Matthias said after a few moments of quiet. He handed the empty mug to Cullen, and Cullen set it down on the ground as Matthias lay down on his cot. “It hardly means much of anything. Just a little bit of fun, I suppose. Although… I think he did that last bit to upset you.”

“Most likely.”

“He’s not fond of templars. Or, well, Southern templars.”

 _Are you? Is anyone?_ “He has no reason to be. Not to say I wasn’t one but now I’m not. That is…” Cullen sighed quietly before regarding Amell rather intently. “I’m no longer a templar. Matthias.”

Matthias frowned, propping himself up on an elbow. “Oh, Cullen. Because of what happened?”

Cullen looked up, softening his expression when Matthias startled a bit in the way Del often did. And fennec foxes seemed to. “Because of the man I was.”

“That wasn’t because of who you were,” Matthias insisted, sitting up completely. “Cullen, what happened… You survived and you endured because of who you were, but it didn’t happen because of anything you’d done. That could have happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t,” Cullen said. “It happened to me. It was Kirkwall. It was Kinloch Hold. What I let it do to me even after you’d saved me.”

“Freed you perhaps. You did most of the work.”

Cullen shook his head. “I’d have gone mad and died were it not for you. I was in such a sorry state and I was unkind to you. Unkind and untoward. The things I said to you, I’ve regretted ever since. But I stopped being a templar because I could no longer justify the Order’s actions nor obey its commands.”

Matthias took Cullen’s hands in his. “Sorry, they’re cold. And you might not—”

“I do.” Cullen brushed his fingers over Matthias’s knuckles. “It’s all right.”

Matthias nodded slightly before smiling. “I’m sorry you’ve regretted them for so long, but I never held those words against you. So I forgive you now as I did then. You seem to have forgiven yourself. That’s far more important.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Ridding yourself of all the terrible things you’ve been carrying around for too long is the only way to move on. It’s what’s helped you be strong and brave, I’d imagine. And you’d have to be both to gather an army like this. To lead them.”

“Technically, the Inquisitor does that.”

“Technically,” Matthias repeated with a sly sort of smile. “But no one saves or changes the world on their own.”

“Where are they now? Your companions?”

It was the wrong question. Cullen knew that almost the second he said it and he wasn’t sure how to take it back, but Matthias didn’t let his hands go. There was that, at least.

“Scattered, I’m afraid. My oath kept me… There are places I can’t go. Places they longed to return to or obligations they had to leave me for. I couldn’t go, and so things changed. The distances became wider and more significant.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a sacrifice,” Matthias said dully. “It’s expected of me.”

Cullen wrapped his hands around Matthias’s. “Then I’m sorry for that too.”

Matthias smiled ruefully. “Yes, well… Let’s go back to talking about you. Seeing as you’re an ex-templar, what happens when you need lyrium?”

“I’ve given it up.”

“…really?”

“Really. It’s been months now.”

“You are strong,” Matthias said admiringly. He chuckled quietly when Cullen ducked his head. “And just as bashful as ever. It’s sweet. I still remember what you told me after my Harrowing.”

“I still can’t believe I said that.”

“Then I suppose you won’t be happy to learn that I told my companions.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Matthias said cheerfully. “Morrigan thought you were a bit of a tit, but then that’s her opinion of most men.”

“And what did you think?”

“That it was sad, I suppose,” Matthias mused. “It was wrong to give orders like that to someone so eager to serve the Maker. You meant well. They should have allowed you to _do_ well.”

Cullen smiled apologetically. “It was all I wanted since I was a child. To be a templar, I mean. I don’t know what it says about me that I’ve given it up.”

“Just that you grew up,” Matthias pointed out. “When I was little, I wanted to be a pirate, so at least you haven’t failed as spectacularly as I have.”

Cullen laughed. “Being the Hero of Ferelden’s just not good enough?”

Matthias smiled. “I suppose it’ll have to do.”

*


	3. Chapter 3

*

The cot to Matthias’s left remained empty, and sometime during the course of the night, Cullen had made use of it. He woke up to a scraping sound, relaxing only when he realized it was Hawke slowly skinning an apple. A large mabari with sleek, black fur and a silver kaddis was snuffling at Matthias’ cot and woofing quietly in what seemed like happiness.

“Be good, Shadow,” Hawke said quietly. “He needs sleep.”

Cullen yawned as he sat up. “Ah. Shadow’s…”

“His dog not mine. I’d love a dog but Anders would…” Hawke scowled, eyes narrowing as he remembered who he was talking to. “Well, let’s just say he’s a cat _person_.”

Cullen sighed. “Again, I’m going to apologize. What I said was uncalled for. Blood magic has a certain… effect on me.”

Hawke considered this, snorting as he dropped the apple peel down to the dog. He began cutting the apple into slices. “And my cousin?”

“I’m not sure what you’re—”

Hawke began dragging out each word as if Cullen were a simpleton. “How. Do. You,” he added, pointing to Cullen with the knife. “Feel. About my cousin?”

“He… That is, Matthias has another effect entirely.”

“Good. Because you might think you’ve been left in here alone with him? But I assure you I am monitoring this situation to a degree that would make you quite uncomfortable were you to misbehave in any way.”

Cullen tried to take the threat seriously. Instead he yawned again. “Yes, well, do what you must.”

“That’s all?”

“I would sooner rip off my own arm than harm someone undeserving of it.”

“Please don’t,” Matthias said, looking up. “It would be so very messy. Hello, Garrett.”

“Hello, cousin. Apple slice?”

Matthias yawned, raking fingers through his hair as he sat up. “I suppose. Oof, Shadow…” 

The mabari had been, to her credit, avoiding jumping on her master up to ths point. However, as no one had told her to stay off of the cot, she’d been trying to climb up onto it. And subsequently into Matthias’ arms.

“Well, you didn’t say hello to her,” Hawke pointed out.

“That’s true. Hello, Shadow. I missed you, girl, yes,” he said, putting his arms around the dog’s neck for a moment. “But down, right? Until I’m better.”

She barked, moving back and sitting down. Hawke gave her an apple slice before handing one to Matthias.

“Shadow because of the dark fur?” Cullen asked.

“Shadow because she’s been following me since she was a pup,” Matthias explained.

Cullen frowned. “Since the Blight?”

Matthias shook his head. “No,” he said, petting the side of Shadow’s neck. “No, that was Fang, and… He passed away some time ago. Shadow here helped me cope.”

Hawke got to his feet. “I’ll get you a more proper breakfast,” he said to Matthias, handing him the remaining slices. “And your armor for the memorial.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Hawke gestured at Cullen. “You want this one to stay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Matthias muttered. “Cullen, I… You don’t feel obligated, do you?”

Cullen blinked. “Obligated?”

“To be here with me?”

“Someone ought to be here.”

“That’s not necessarily you,” Hawke pointed out.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say.

“Oh, Hawke, leave it,” Matthias said gently. “He’s not a problem. He’s been a comfort. And kind.”

“Why?” Hawke asked, folding and pocketing his knife. Then he crossed his arms. “Why must I leave it? Is he so delicate, so sensitive that I can’t say a thing about how he ignored you the entire time we were at Skyhold and then suddenly he has to be near you at all times?”

“I want to be here,” Cullen managed, feeling awkward and more than a little… Not nervous. Not anxious. Not angry. He wasn’t sure what he felt. Conflicted, perhaps? Determined? That seemed more likely. “I want to make sure he’s well.”

Hawke strode closer and Cullen backed up, nearly running into a tent pole. Hawke studied him sharply.

Behind them, Shadow tilted her head. She seemed to be trying to decide if this warranted her attention. Eventually she woofed and moved closer to Matthias.

“I can count the surviving members of my family on one hand and still have two fingers to spare,” Hawke eventually growled out. “Two of them don’t give a toss about me. This one here… You hurt so much as injure one of his feelings and so help me I will break every bone in your body.”

Cullen sighed inwardly. “I’d expect as much. Only I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. Furthermore, if my being here—”

“Do shut up, Cullen,” Matthias instructed. “Hawke, stop doing this and get me what I need. Please.”

Hawke glanced back at his cousin. “Very well. But I’d like to point out that if you need something pretty to stare at, there are plenty of other people available.”

“Duly noted and subsequently ignored.”

“We’ll be back then.” Hawke tapped his side, “Come on, you.” Shadow got to her feet, following him out of the tent.

“You might as well sit down,” Matthias said before eating a piece of apple.

“I might,” Cullen agreed, sitting down in the chair across from him.

“Apple?”

“Only to have your cousin peek in to find me stealing food from an invalid? I wouldn’t dare.”

Matthias chuckled. As he did so, he ducked his head in a way that was so irritatingly charming that Cullen nearly scowled in strange, sudden frustration. “I’d defend you,” he said with a smile.

Cullen snorted. “So I’d be stealing bits of apple from a wounded man who was willing to defend my right to do so? I fail to see how that would improve matters.”

“I’m sorry about it but also… It’s rather nice. To have someone looking out for me, I mean. Hawke’s been… I can barely remember my mother. I’m not sure I would ever recognize my father, but I have Hawke and I’m grateful.”

“It can be nice having family.”

“What’s yours like?”

Cullen shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I saw them.” Although he’d finally started corresponding regularly with Mia. “Loud, if memory serves. I have two sisters and a brother. All of them much smarter than I am.”

“Where are they now?”

“Still in Honnleath. Or thereabouts.”

Matthias grinned. “Honnleath? Then… you must have seen Shale.”

“And she would be?”

“A rather massive golem.”

Cullen frowned then blinked. “You mean the one from the square? Maker’s Breath. I did wonder where your golem came from. At first, I thought it was just one of those odd tales people told about you. She’s not… She’s not here, is she?” he asked, glancing around the tent and then feeling remarkably dim for doing so.

Matthias just laughed brightly. “She’d hardly fit in my pack.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“What?”

“It’s just that… I may have… That is to say I might have…stabbed her. With a stick.”

“A stick?”

“I suppose a wooden sword would be more accurate.”

Matthias laughed. “Do I want to know why?”

“I was nine. Brandon was too young to play with and the girls weren’t interested in playing templars. I pretended she was some sort of demon. And before I stabbed her… I might have painted her. Just slightly, mind you.”

“Painted her?”

“Just added a bit of red to the spots I could reach.”

“To add an air of authenticity?”

“Something like that.”

Matthias grinned. “And yet all she ever did was complain about the pigeons.”

Cullen chuckled. “I didn’t even warrant a mention?”

“Not a one.”

“I suppose that’s just as well.”

“We’ll just not tell her if she comes to visit. I doubt she’d recognize you,” Matthias cheerfully mused. “The years have been really, really kind to you.”

Cullen snorted. “I’ve held up alright in spite of it all.”

“I meant that as a compliment.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I particularly like the…” Matthias gestured towards his own lip. “Scar. But then I suppose most people do.”

“I haven’t really heard much about it one way or the other.”

“No,” Matthias insisted. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I quite like it.”

Cullen smirked slightly. “Well, thank you,” he murmured before he could think better of it. He leaned in slightly. 

Matthias studied the scar nearly moving a hand to it before he blinked and then frowned. “But I don’t… That is… I didn’t mean to… You must have got it fighting someone or something. I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cullen insisted. “Here.” He took up Matthias’ hand, letting a finger or two press against the scar. “It’s quite all right.”

“Oh,” Matthias managed. He smiled shyly, brushing fingers over Cullen’s lips. “The rest of you isn’t bad either.”

“I do what I can,” Cullen replied.

*

Cullen had been required to wait outside when Matthias began what seemed like a very slow, difficult process of putting on armor. He wasn’t the only one. Dorian was reading a book nearby, pretending to be busy.

Bull was just standing next to Cullen looking amused. He’d arrived with two mugs of coffee, and he’d given the second one to Cullen along with some rather soggy pieces of toast. It had been a thoughtful gesture, but one with a rather obvious ulterior motive.

“Haven’t seen much of you,” the Qunari murmured. “What have you been up to, Cullen?”

Cullen blinked. “Why are you asking?”

“Mostly because I want to know. Somewhat because I’m curious. You seem really caught up on Amell. Which isn’t bad but revisiting the past can suck.”

“Revisiting this aspect of my past isn’t ideal, but it’s good. Being around him, I mean.” 

“He’s doing well? Must be. He’s a tough little thing.”

“He’s on the mend. Not a great deal of broken bones just the bites and claw marks. Some of the healing process can’t be rushed by magic.”

“Just glad he’s alright. Boss would have felt like shit about that for the rest of forever.”

It was interesting with Bull. His deference to Del was sincere enough. He provided a sort of encouraging kindness towards him. And, as amused as Bull often was, he seemed fond of the Inquisitor. He was usually the first to defend Del verbally or physically. The few times Cullen had seen them in battle, they’d been nearly in sync.

“At least he didn’t have to choose. Amell just charged in. Brave as fuck,” Bull said proudly. “There’s nothing quite like seeing someone live up to their job description. Almost as good as killing dragons.”

“Have you two been doing a great deal of that?”

“No, but after this? We will be. I can’t wait to take out a dragon with him.” There was a certain significance to Bull’s words that Cullen couldn’t entirely understand. But then understanding wasn’t necessarily required when it came to jealousy.

“I can’t imagine we’ll be sending the Warden-Commander anywhere,” Cullen said. “It all depends on Del. At the moment, I’ve no idea what’s planned for Amell or his Order, but I imagine I’ll need his input and battle savvy.”

Bull frowned. “Oh, come on. You can’t ruin this for me.”

“I wouldn’t ruin anything for you. I’m just saying we hardly need to be sending both the Hero of Ferelden and the Inquisitor off on too many of the same errands.”

“Well, you’d better allow him on as many as he cares to participate in,” Dorian said as he joined them, shutting his book with a good deal more force than was strictly necessary. “The fact is, _Commander_ , that Del likes Amell’s company, and the boy benefits from his instructions.”

“Does he?” Cullen asked, careful to sound speculative and not hopeful. Or, well, fond. 

He could just imagine Matthias helped Del. Gently showing him spells he hadn’t had the time to learn yet. Offering him different techniques to test out and some of them quite unique. As a battlemage, Matthias often used a sword rather than a staff.

“He does. They have a shared past,” Dorian continued. “Half a life spent locked in some tower surrounded by idiots.”  
“It’s hardly half a life for either one of them. Mat—Amell was taken by the Grey Wardens shortly after his Harrowing. He was eighteen. Del is just twenty years of age.”

“Young then. Impressionable.”

“Yes.”

“It’s hard to imagine they would look back on that time fondly years later.”

“Dorian, either get to the point or give it a rest,” Bull put in.

“Why are you so focused on him?” Dorian asked. “Why now? And why is he so willing to put up with it? He was nothing short of a prisoner when you first met. Do you miss being in charge of him?”

Cullen shook his head then he finished his coffee. “It isn’t like that.”

“No?”

“I want to get to know him now. Not because of the past. I don’t want things to be as they were back then.”

Considering their conversations back at Kinloch Hold, why would he ever want to repeat them? None of them would be worth it. Particularly not the one held after Matthias’ Harrowing where somehow discussing the particulars of how Cullen would have done away with a possessed apprentice had seemed like an appropriate topic.

Cullen sighed. Some of his past he would always keep private, but he supposed Dorian was entitled to a better understanding. He’d have to, more than likely, provide as much to Hawke at some point. 

“For so long I wanted to forget him. Hate him. Find him. Forgive him. And then he showed up and I realized it was never about him at all. It was all just me. Always me. And I want to get to know him,” he repeated quietly, studying the mug in his hands. “Because I think he would be worth knowing.”

Cullen blinked when Bull ruffled his hair. “You do that then,” the Qunari said in a low rumble. “Might want to stop getting in your own way.”

“I’m not sure what to make of the sudden revelation that you’re a strange, pathetic mess when it comes to Matthias. But… I do feel sorry for you. That’s something,” Dorian mused.

“How fortunate for me,” Cullen muttered.

He gently shrugged Bull off as Matthias and Hawke emerged from the tent. They were friends or they were on their way. And Bull was rather comforting for a Qunari spy. It had also felt good to say some of what had been on his mind, and to not have it change anything. Bull was the same as ever. Dorian was unlikely to change for anyone. And that was comforting too.

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

The Grey Wardens were gathered in a small area not too far from bridge where Clarel had fought her last.

Matthias moved to them, smiling when Stroud embraced him. They hugged fiercely, and Cullen frowned when Stroud kissed his cheek and then his forehead.

“It is good to see you again, brother,” Stroud said.

“And you,” Matthias said, leaning against him before moving to the front of the group.

“Wardens,” he said, voice still a bit soft but carrying. “The Inquisitor has determined that we can aid the Inquisition. We will each of us be examined by a healer and put through a series of tests. It is my hope we will all be declared fit to serve. 

“If that is not immediately the case, it will only be a matter of time. For I know-- even if you don’t-- that we will mend and move past what has happened here. To do so, there is much we will need to reexamine and change about our Order. I firmly believe we can do this. I know that we must do it together, but first and foremost, before we honor our brothers and sisters, we must discuss our oath.”

He stood solemnly in front of them, meeting all of their gazes one by one. “When the moment comes… When you raise that cup to your lips and repeat the words being all but tossed at you, there’s not much time to think about the weight of them. You’re distracted by any number of things. Perhaps it is by the yearning for redemption or the longing to return home or the fear of death or all of these things. So you say the words with the cup trembling in your numb fingers. In Peace, Vigilance. In War, Victory. In Death, Sacrifice. You don’t ask what these words are supposed to mean. You might never get to ask that of the one who helps you through the Joining.

“Peace and vigilance we can understand readily enough. War and victory, the same. Death, we wish to avoid and so we shy from a complete knowledge of it. We fight against it and our fear of its arrival. But sacrifice… Sacrifice is the most difficult of all. For some, that part of the oath seems to be up to interpretation. That ends here, and that ends today.

“A sacrifice is not made lightly. In truth, I do not believe a sacrifice should be made unless it is with a willing heart and there is no other choice. And if you hear nothing else that I say to you, hear this: the sacrifice is your own. Your own personal sacrifice. It is you as a Grey Warden doing whatever must be done to save the entire world of Thedas from the blight, from evil, and from chaos. You do not ever sacrifice the sister or brother to the right and left of you. You do not bring them to harm. You do not use them as chattel. You do not cheapen their deaths by taking their choices from them. You do not purchase your own peace if the cost is their lives.

“We can do nothing about what has happened besides remember and learn from it. And when the day comes that another asks you again to take the life of a brother or sister? Asks you again to follow them and do something terrible for the good of the world? You will look them in the eye and you will say no. I cannot give you that which is not mine to give. My oath was made for me. My vigilance for your peace. My victory to end your war. My sacrifice to prevent your death.

“And you can tell them the Hero of Ferelden said so,” Matthias added. He smiled when a few of the older Wardens chuckled. “Please understand, brothers and sisters. If I sound angry, if my words strike you as critical and harsh, they are said for my benefit as well as your own. For I am as guilty as anyone in regards to what has happened here.” He waved a dismissive hand when a few Wardens protested. “If we have failed as an Order, we have failed together. I am a leader, one of the few surviving in Ferelden or Orlais. And it is true that I might not have issued the orders which lead us to this point, but I did not keep us from it either. I cannot ask more of you than I do of myself, and I have failed. Failed you and failed our fallen. Just as they failed us and themselves.

“We cannot forget that we all are burdened with a shared responsibility, but that is not all that we must remember. We must remember the dead, and we must remember them as people, as brave men and women. We must acknowledge their years of service. Their bravery as they joined us. The strength they gave us when we fought beside them. We mourn them. We honor them. They were Grey Wardens. They were…”

And so began a litany of names beginning with Warden-Commander Clarel. More names than Cullen would have been able to remember or manage. They came slowly, a pause between each one. Silence in which to mourn.

“Who else have we lost?” Matthias gently asked when he was finished.

Various Wardens from various races spoke, naming one or two names. An older dwarven woman finished with four names, and then they were all silent for a time.

“Thank you,” Matthias said at last.

He stayed where he was as other Wardens spoke to him. He remained there until the rest of his people left, watching them pensively.  
When he walked, he moved slower than he had before. And he steadied himself against Bull when he finally moved towards him.

“A very compelling speech,” Dorian said, for once looking merely sincere. Almost respectful. “I’m quite sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Matthias said for what had to be the fiftieth time. “I think… I need to sit down.”

“Probably,” Bull agreed. “Want me to carry you?”

Matthias smiled. “Hardly although I appreciate the offer.”

“Cullen carried you.”

“Did he?” Matthias’ smile widened slightly as he considered Cullen. “When I was unconscious, I trust?”

“Yes,” Cullen said. 

“He’s like those creatures that mend shoes in old wives’ tales,” Samson said with a smirk. He came up behind Cullen and patted his cheek. “You hardly see him, but he’s always there. Shy and strange. Bull. Pavus.”

Dorian nodded before moving along as he often did when Samson happened by.

Bull patted Matthias’ hair before following Dorian. “Get some rest,” he called back. “Or I’m carrying you home tomorrow.”

“I’ll do my best,” Matthias muttered, blinking a bit. He yawned slightly and stumbled a bit. “Thank you,” he said when Cullen caught his left arm.

“Rousing speech, Amell,” Samson said, wrapping an arm around Matthias’ shoulders when Cullen let go. “You’re a fine leader.”

“I don’t know about that, but it won’t matter too much now.”

“Oh, you’ll be leading. All this means is more quality time with Rutherford here. A collaborative effort. After all, the Commander would hardly want you to feel beneath him. He’s a fine leader too. Tired?”

It wasn’t entirely Samson’s fault that virtually everything he said had this sinister twist to it. With Del, sometimes he could even be sweet. But at that precise moment, with Matthias being slightly off-kilter and exhausted, everything Samson said seemed significantly untoward.

“Very,” Matthias said quietly. “I know that despite all of our losses, this is a victory… Only it doesn’t feel much like one.”

“Mostly likely because you got chewed on by a giant spider. What part of that oath of yours talks about that?”

Matthias shook his head, smiling slightly. “The secret part, of course.”

“Of course.” Samson scowled, rolling his eyes as he looked at Cullen. “Oh, Rutherford. Stop standing there like a knob and escort him back to his tent. Maker, but you make him useless, Amell.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“Well, with you being so very handsome, it’s no surprise. I certainly hope your oath doesn’t require some sort of charity towards hapless sods.”

“Wouldn’t I be looking after you then?”

Samson grinned. “You can look after me whenever you like, sweetheart. Or the reverse suits me. I can carry you off somewhere nice. My tent. Your tent. Some dusty Orlesian love nest hidden in a secret passage somewhere in this shit-heap. You name it.”

Matthias laughed quietly, ducking away when Samson tried to pick him up. “Oh, don’t. Del will hear and he’ll think you’re serious.”

“Who’s to say I’m not or that I wouldn’t bring him with?”

“Cullen will walk me home. You just go work on behaving yourself elsewhere. Take an oath of celibacy.”

“Never in life,” and so saying Samson kissed Matthias soundly on the lips before moving away.

“I hate you,” Cullen said through clenched teeth as Samson stopped in front of him.

“Useless. Knob,” Samson said with a shrug. “Work on that.”

Matthias blinked a bit before letting out a huff. “And you’re…friends?”

“Were,” Cullen muttered darkly.

Matthias linked his arm through Cullen’s. “Oh now, don’t give up on your friendship just yet.”

“It’s more of a mutual loathing.”

“I’ve had friends like that. It can be very rewarding,” Matthias said, tugging Cullen slightly. “Come on, walk me back. Slowly please. I’m barely going to make it as it is without clinging to you like a sickly waif.”

“You can do that,” Cullen said, surprised at how quickly he was able to reply. And how loudly. “If you want. Because I want you to.”

Matthias studied him carefully before tightening his grip on Cullen’s arm. He leaned closer to Cullen, letting out a small, uncertain sigh. “Oh good.”

*

Back at the tent, Cullen stood outside, wincing a bit at the retching sounds coming from within the tent. He’d sent healers in, and he made a mental note to ask for more details into Matthias’ condition when they came back out again.

Bull came to stand next to him, looking a little grim. “Fucking demons.”

“Quite,” Cullen muttered. 

“This is what I meant,” Dorian added, joining them. There was a sly glint in his eyes when he considered Cullen, but for the most part he seemed concerned. “He ought to have been more careful.”

“And I still meant it when I said I would have liked to have been there for the show.”

“Perhaps you ought to explain,” Cullen demanded.

“I’d have thought Samson would have, but then he might have assumed…” Dorian shook his head. “Really, Commander. A little more curiosity would do you a world of good. Matthias lingered to spare others from difficult choices, of course, but he is also stayed because he could shapeshift into something rather formidable.”

“Shapeshift?”

Bull grinned. “Into a bad-ass dragon.”

Suddenly several things made a bit more sense while many things did not. A dragon? “How did he learn that?”

Dorian snorted.

“Is that not a valid question?”

“It would depend on why you’re asking.”

“Because that is not something… He couldn’t have learned that in the Circle.”

“Judging by poor Trevelyan’s abilities prior to Skyhold, I’m not sure anyone learns much of anything in your Circles.”

“They can learn but it is… It is very limited,” Cullen admitted. “So how did he learn?”

“Based on the accounts I’ve found of the Hero of Ferelden, I would have thought he would be mute. But he’s quite...talkative when he’s gone out with us on expeditions.”

“It’s what happens when you spend too much time alone,” Bull said. “You get lonely. Quiet.”

“Anyway,” Dorian said, clearing his throat, “suffice it to say, that witch he traveled with taught him that particular type of magic. Before she developed… Well, feelings for him.”

“Feelings?” Cullen asked.

“They became friends, and… Well, it’s in our nature to protect our friends, isn’t it?”

“Is shapeshifting so dangerous?”

“It would be difficult for me to say,” Dorian said with a shrug. “I’ve never studied it and I’ve lived in a country that embraces all forms of magic. I don’t imagine he was able to become a dragon until quite recently. That is the sort of skill Master Shapeshifters can manage after years of study and contenting themselves with becoming a swarm of bees or a bereskarn.” 

“The bee thing would be stupid, but I’d like to fight alongside a bereskarn,” Bull mused. 

“I didn’t think you liked mages.”

“I didn’t realize they could all kinds of cool shit. Besides, what the hell’s the difference at this point? Everyone around here is Bas, which means you’re all wrong in your own special way. And some of you are more wrong than others.”

“We’re digressing and considerably,” Dorian pointed out. “Look, Commander. His becoming a dragon would take massive amounts of mana and energy. To focus that on a fear demon… It’s nearly unthinkable. And in that form, using far too much of his powers, Matthias ingested a good deal of poison. It would be bad enough to have mauled a giant spider, but he attacked a fear demon. He’s currently trying to purge the venom of a magical creature from his system. A venom comprised of the fears of multitudes of people including other Wardens.”

“Will he recover?”

“Slowly.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “Maker’s Breath.”

“What does that mean for him when it comes to the tests we’re giving to all the Grey Wardens?” Bull asked. “Obviously he’s fit to serve in some capacity, but he can’t just go back out like he did before. It’s bad. For him and for the other Wardens.”

Cullen frowned. “He’s not unfit to serve, but I do think you’re right in some ways. And honestly I think he might do well issuing orders rather than flinging himself into every fray he comes across.”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “Won’t matter for long though. He’s kadan to the Arishok. He’ll make it. Plus we’re overlooking the awesome part,” he added, patting Cullen roughly on the back. “Being in love with one of the ataashi is good luck.”

“Beg pardon?” Cullen asked.

“Dragon in Qunlat. It means ‘glorious ones,’” Dorian translated. When both men turned to look at him, he sniffed the air casually. “Bull babbles about dragons when he drinks. And sings their praises. And sometimes I listen. It’s hard not to when he’s so very loud.”

 _And_ , Cullen thought, _the Tevinter Imperium once worshipped them_. Maybe Dorian and Bull taking up with each other made a bit of sense after all

“Anyway, congrats,” Bull added.

Cullen rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Bull, I am tolerant of your odd enthusiasm--”

“Thanks.”

“But regardless of my current emotional state, Amell is simply a shapeshifter.”

“Yeah, but considering your luck, you could use some of the good kind.”

“Be that as it may, Bull. I am not in love with a dragon.”

Bull frowned. “Why do none of your people appreciate dragons?”

Dorian huffed. “Why do you still enjoy them after they routinely set you on fire, freeze you, electrocute you, and stomp on your head?”

“Hm. Got a point. Might be the brain damage talking,” Bull admitted with a smirk.

And for a brief instant, the look Dorian gave the Qunari was fond. Then the tent flap opened, and he went back to looking disinterested.

The healers filed out, but Cullen didn’t bother asking too many questions. The update was a decent one. Matthias needed to rest up more, but he would be able to travel provided he was not required to walk.

“You two try being useful. Get him some tea and food. I’m going in,” Bull announced, disappearing into the tent. 

“This bit of help is all well and good,” Dorian said, “but what of Matthias’ complete and utter lack of rewards and perks despite his continual service to the entirely of Thedas?”

“An error I’d like to amend," Cullen assured him. "Personally.”

Dorian nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, well,” he added, clearing his throat. “I’ll round up a meal for him, but I’ll leave the tea and the waiting to you. You seem to have a knack for both.”

*


	5. Chapter 5

*

The next day, Cullen ran out of excuses for being near Amell. At least, he felt, until they arrived back at Skyhold. 

He watched instead as the Warden-Commander was looked after by other Wardens, most noticeably Stroud. Matthias had been given Del’s Amaranthine Charger despite his protests. He’d accepted after a good deal of glaring from various healers and Del himself.

Stroud held the reins loosely as he lead the Charger along. They spoke to one another, both of them pleased by whatever the other was saying.

Cullen gritted his teeth, moving ahead of his soldiers and issuing orders to any of the scouts that crossed his path. 

“Going to do anything about it?” Samson asked.

“It’s hardly my place.”

“Not yet. Not likely to be if you don’t keep fighting for… Well, control of the reins.”

“He’s not a child. Nor my ward.”

“He doesn’t need to be for you to stop avoiding him.”

Cullen scowled as Samson grabbed his arm and tugged him along. If the soldiers had anything to say on the matter, they kept it to themselves. Their expressions were stony as they often were with Samson strolling past. 

“You’re like a bride we captured during a war,” Samson remarked when they caught up to Matthias and Stroud. He chuckled, catching Matthias’ foot in his hand when Matthias tried to kick him. “You’re certainly feisty enough.”

“And you are certainly wicked enough.”

“Stroud,” Cullen quietly managed.

“Rutherford, is it?” Stroud asked with a slight smirk. “Good afternoon.”

“I could still win you over,” Samson was saying. “Make you mine.”

Matthias rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt it. Commander, this man is bothering me.”

Cullen glanced back. “Is he?”

“Yes.”

Samson moved back as Cullen glared at him.

“Do not bother the Warden-Commander,” Cullen advised in a low growl. “Behave yourself or I’m going to have to do something about you.”

Matthias looked pleased and a little… Well, something else.

Samson grinned. “I know for a fact your bark is worse than your bite. What is it you’ll do if I decide to carry on however I please?”

“You seem to think the Commander is the only one here who would do something about it,” Stroud said, his gaze sharp but his tone still light. 

“Ganging up on me then? That’s rather low,” Samson said with a frown. “Surely.”

“There’s no need for that if you can be good,” Matthias pointed out.

“We’ll see,” Samson said with a shrug. “I don’t train well. And now I ought to make sure Del isn’t off somewhere picking more elfroot. I’m hoping we can keep ahead of the rain, but I’m not sure we will be able to.”

“It’s a ways off,” Cullen murmured, considering the sky. “We’ll be pitching tents long before it sweeps through.”

Samson and Stroud snorted.

Cullen rolled his eyes, easily guessing what they were thinking.

“How much long will the trip take thanks to me?” Matthias asked.

“However long it takes, it won’t be owed to you. We’re slow for a variety of reasons,” Cullen said. “I imagine it’ll be a fortnight before we’re back at Skyhold. Perhaps less.”

“It might be prudent to have the Inquisitor ride on ahead,” Stroud suggested. “Along with his companions.”

“The scouts will ride on ahead,” Cullen pointed out. “The Inquisitor ought to remain with his army.”

“No doubt about it,” Samson agreed. “Can’t have Amell finding more spiders without us. And... It means a lot, you know. What you did. Not just because of the world but Del’s a bit afraid of them.”

“I had noticed,” Matthias said, but his tone was fond.

“Right. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” Samson moved closer to Cullen. “I’d tell you to behave yourself, but I know you will. I’d love it if you disappointed me.”

Cullen just sighed heavily once Samson moved on.

“I suppose I can amuse myself elsewhere,” Stroud said, offering the reins to Matthias. “And if you can best a fear demon, you can guide your own horse.”

“I...suppose. You don’t have to go.”

Stroud tugged lightly on one of Matthias’ braids. “I don’t, but I will.”

Matthias smiled, leaning down and kissing Stroud’s cheek. “Thanks for looking after me.”

“This is merely the start of it, brother. But you could use the break and your… friend here is in want of you.”

Matthias shook his head as Stroud left them. “We’re… We’ve worked together for a long time now.”

“I’m sure,” Cullen replied.

“You have such an interesting dynamic with Samson.” 

“I do.”

“You must have met earlier than this. In Kirkwall?”

Cullen moved back so that he was walking next to the horse. It was easier to see Matthias that way. “We were roommates in the barracks. But he left the Order long before I did.”

“Oh?”

“A friend of his… Maddox. He was in love and Samson was delivering letters for him. The charge was corrupting a templar.”

“Tranquility,” Matthias said quietly.

“No. I mean, yes, that was what was decided. But the Rite never took place. Samson got him out of the Gallows—the Circle—and then, well, he worked to do the same for other mages. Before everything started to unravel.”

“Anders did mention Samson,” Matthias admitted. “But he never mentioned you. Neither did Hawke.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “I can’t imagine they would. I… Nothing I did was as Knight-Captain was particularly heroic. At least not to their way of thinking.” And he didn’t entirely care what Hawke or Anders thought of him, but he imagined Matthias did.

“You did nothing particularly damning,” Matthias pointed out, he moved one hand from the mane of the Charger he was seated on. He was able to brush his knuckles along Cullen’s fur-covered shoulder if only briefly. 

Cullen hesitated then took Matthias’ hand in his. His fingers were cold, but then it was a chilly sort of day.

“Sometimes a person is not as brave as they’d like to be. But that doesn’t mean they never can be brave. You’ve been brave. Strong. And you’re a good person, Cullen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. Samson clearly believes it. Bull does too. And you’re the Commander of Del’s Inquisition and so many people have faith in you. And you looked after me even after all that’s happened.”

“What’s happened before… That had nothing to do with it,” Cullen assured him. “But… Please don’t think I did that last bit without quite a large ulterior motive.”

“Oh, I’d like to think that. Truly, it would be a relief,” Matthias said with an oddly hopeful smile. He squeezed Cullen’s fingers gently.

“How so?”

“I can’t quite tell where I stand with you at times. If your silence is because you are unsure of what to say or if you dislike me or…”

“How could anyone dislike you?”

Matthias laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

“Well, I don’t dislike you. Quite the contrary. I’d like very much to get to know you better.”

“Oh? How much better?”

This was, of course, when Cassandra bellowed out that they would stopping for the night and setting up camp. 

“A good deal and...in any way that I can. I ought to have suggested as much before this point.”

“You kept your distance instead.”

“I assumed-- foolishly-- that you would want me to, but I am hoping I was wrong.”

“You can hope,” Matthias said with gentle smile. “I’d prefer that you did.”

Cullen hesitated then kissed Matthias’ knuckles. “Then I will,” he promised.

*

Once they found a place to set up camp, the Inquisition’s soldiers got to work putting up tents. Del’s was a rather large, elegant Orlesian one. It was black with a silver embroidered version of the Inquisition’s heraldry on its flap.

“Want me to pitch your tent,” Bull offered, helping Matthias down from the horse. His hands lingered on Matthias’ waist as he waited for an answer.

“What about your own?”

“My boys can handle that,” Bull cheerfully replied. “I just have to deal with the Vint’s.”

“Dorian can’t manage on his own?”

Bull laughed, letting Matthias go. “Not unless you want to hear him bitch and complain for about four hours only to get a splinter and foist the job off on me anyway.”

“It sounds like you wouldn’t have time for mine then.”

“I’d make time for you.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I’d be more than happy to put up your tent, Matthias.”

“What about yours?”

“I’ll get to it after. Or my men will. Either way it will hardly matter.”

“Or you could share,” Bull pointed out, winking at Cullen in such an obvious way that Matthias chuckled. Cullen felt a twinge of guilt for being rather put out by Bull’s offers to help. He had to stop thinking poorly of him. There really never was a reason to do so. Time and again the Qunari proved to be good-natured and easygoing and encouraging. “You know, save some time.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you don’t, Cullen.”

“Not at all.”

“Get some rest then,” Bull advised.

Matthias laughed. “I’m fine, really.”

Bull shook his head. “You dealt with a giant fucking demon,” he said in an admiring tone. “On your own, and you bested it. I’d say you’ve earned the right to some recuperation. You don’t need to bother with a justification.”

Matthias took Bull’s hand in his and smiled. “Thank you, Bull.”

Bull grinned before moving away. “Don’t thank me. Do it.”

Once this exchange was over and done with, Cullen began hauling over the canvas, poles, and other equipment necessary for assembling a tent. 

He tossed them down none-too-gently before rummaging around in saddlebags until he found a wool blanket. Spreading the blanket over the grass, he gestured Matthias over to it. “So you can rest,” he said.

“Is there anything I could do first?”

“It’s a tent,” Cullen said with a smirk as he removed his cloak. And then slowly moved onto unbuckling his armor. “I can handle it.”

Matthias blinked, sitting down and watching Cullen set pieces of armor down. “Not that I’m complaining but… What are you doing now?”

“I hardly need to wear all of this to assemble a tent.”

“Oh. Um. How little do you need to wear to do it? Because I would hate for you to have to wear much of anything. By which I mean I’d hate for you to overheat.”

Cullen chuckled. “Well, I was planning on keeping my breeches on if nothing else.”

“So the shirt is optional?”

“It could be.”

“I think it would aid greatly in my recovery. How is it you’re not shy about this?”

Cullen shrugged even as he smirked. “It’s not like there was very much privacy when I was still a templar. And… I suppose it is because I have nothing to be shy about.” 

Matthias chuckled. “Hm. You should look like this more. It’s a good look.”

“What is?”

"This rugged, boyish charm you’ve got. The confidence isn’t bad either.”

“Well, I’m confident in my physique. And most aspects of my job,” Cullen said as he tugged off his shirt. 

Matthias sighed, looking a bit wistful. “I hope you understand that the likelihood of us just being friends is… Well, I think the possibility just died, to be honest.”

“I don’t see why,” Cullen said lightly although if he looked pleased, well, it was hardly his own fault or doing. “Bull walks around shirtless all of the time.”

“Bull didn’t keep vigil over me for days or look after me as much as you have. Which might lead me to assume you’re willing to consider not just being friends.”

Cullen smirked, crouching down in front of Matthias. “I’m not sure I ever wanted to just be your friend although I should like for us to be...friendly.”

Matthias smiled. “Oh, good. Could um… Could you come here then?”

Cullen moved from a crouch to kneeling next to the Warden. It wasn’t surprising and yet it was rather satisfying when Matthias kissed him. The first kiss was chaste, just a light press of lips against his scar. The next kiss was to his lips, a bit more proper and forceful. Cullen returned it eagerly before going back to work.

Shortly after that, Shadow came over, circling her human before lying down next to him on the blanket. 

“Do I even want to ask what’s going on over here?” Hawke asked as he walked over. “Maybe I should.”

“No, don’t,” Matthias said. “In fact, I think you ought to go.”

Hawke grinned. “Go? Where am I going?”

“Away. Shoo, Hawke,” Matthias suggested.

Hawke crossed his arms as he glanced at Cullen. “Well, well, well. Someone has certainly been taking advanced lessons in personal grooming. Your hair is better, you have some freckles on those broad shoulders, your face is much better what with that scar… And… clearly you’ve been working out.”

“I think I said shoo,” Matthias muttered. “In fact, I am certain that I did.”

Shadow woofed before panting.

“See, even the dog would like for you to leave. Or take her for a--”

“Oh, don’t you dare say it.”

Matthias laughed, petting Shadow’s back. “A run. Wouldn’t you love to go on a run with Hawke? Wouldn’t that be so wonderful?”

Hawke scowled as Shadow jumped up. She began prancing around him excitedly.

“You know,” Matthias said rather smugly, “I did tell you to shoo.”

“As if he’s stripping for me,” Hawke scoffed. “It’s pretty obvious who he’s shirking clothing and taking on additional responsibilities for.”

“This is hardly a burden or responsibility,” Cullen said without really thinking about it. He’d been listening but primarily he’d been smirking as assembling the tent. “I quite enjoy any and all time spent with your cousin.”

“I think I am going to shoo,” Hawke replied but he seemed pleased.

“I do wish he wouldn’t do that,” Matthias said as his dog and cousin dashed off. 

“Do what?”

“Interfere.”

“He ought to.”

“Because family ought to look after family?”

“Because,” Cullen said, glancing over his shoulder. “So many people seem to be interested in you.”

“Yes, well, it makes one feels like a piece of meat more than anything else. And it’s all very well for a cousin to look after you but...”

“But?”

“I will be a bit relieved when or if someone else has to do it. Interfere, I mean.” 

“Should I?” Cullen asked. “I certainly could.Only… I’m not sure I ought to.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a bit… Possessive, I suppose. That is, I would interfere all of the time. I’m not one for sharing those who company I would much prefer to monopolize,” Cullen admitted. “But you really ought to rest and I really ought to pitch this tent for you. This literal tent, I mean.”

Matthias huffed out a laugh before curling up on the blanket. “I suppose so,” he said, tugging Cullen’s cloak around him. He yawned, closing his eyes and then opening them again. “Oh. Do you mind if I borrow this?”

“No,” Cullen managed, swallowing hard. It took him a little bit of time to look away. Still, he went back to working on the tent. 

When the tent was up and Cullen finally looked back, Shadow had returned and Matthias was curled up next to her, resting his head against her flank. He sighed under his breath. Maker, he was even jealous of a dog. How ridiculous.

*


	6. Chapter 6

*

Whimpering woke him up, and he was a little surprised to discover it wasn’t his own. Matthias was curled up tightly, his blanket had fallen to the ground. 

Cullen picked the blanket up, folding it under one arm. Then he set a hand on Matthias’ shoulder, nudging gently.

Matthias startled awake. “Sorry,” he managed, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“Don’t be,” Cullen said.

“There’s been a lot of these. Nightmares. It’s been worse since the false Calling started. And...well, demons never help.”

“No,” Cullen agreed. He set Matthias’ blanket on his shoulders, moving back to his own cot. “I don’t think it’s worth apologizing for. I have these too.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Some of it due to experience. The rest due to withdrawal. Cold sweats. Shaking. That sort of thing.” Why he could admit so readily to this, and not to more cheerful, life-affirming things was beyond him. “Do you need tea or anything?”

“No. Thank you though.”

“All right,” Cullen said. He ran a hand through his hair and moved back to his own cot.

“Wait. Can… Can you come back?”

Cullen blinked a bit. He came back, sitting down on the empty half of Matthias’ cot instead.

“It’s just… I can’t sleep right away. After. But… Never mind. You probably could, and you’ve done a great more today than I have.”

“Nonsense,” Cullen said. “I can mind quite easily, and I don’t object to staying here with you.”

Matthias nodded, curling up so that he could rest his chin against his knees. He seemed to do that quite often when he was distressed.

Cullen set a hand on Matthias’ shoulder, blinking again when Matthias leaned against him. But then perhaps he was used to such things. Hawke would have comforted him like this. Or Bull. Maybe even Dorian. Maker, there were so many people and the thought of any of them doing this made him so keenly frustrated and angry.

“It’s just… What happened… With the demon. I almost...”

“You almost died,” Cullen said quietly, rubbing small circles along Matthias’ shoulders. “You almost died trying to save the world. Again.”

“Yes,” Matthias admitted. “How… Um. What did you think?”

Cullen frowned. It was an odd question, but it was one he could answer. “I thought it would a shame if you didn’t return. When you came back, all I could think was… Maker’s Breath, don’t let him do that again.”

Matthias laughed and then he slowly took Cullen’s hand in his. “When we’re back at Skyhold, let’s set aside some time for what you suggested while we were walking. You want to get to know me better, and I think that needs to happen before we try for anything else.” 

“Yes,” Cullen said, a little thickly. “I want… a good deal from you.”

Matthias nodded. “Can you stay here? Until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

Matthias curled up closer, hugging Cullen’s arm to his chest. “I really do like you, Cullen. And not just because you’re impossibly handsome.”

“But that does play a deciding factor?”

Matthias huffed out a laugh. “Hm. Not as much as you’d think, but it doesn’t hurt. Really it’s… you’re very sweet, you know? You’re so many things. I want you to tell me all about them. Starting tomorrow, and then back at Skyhold.”

“I’ll do my best. As for things you ought to tell me… I already know about your shapeshifting.”

Matthias blinked. “Oh?”

“Bull and Dorian mentioned it.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“I was. Somewhat.”

“And now?”

Cullen shrugged. “I’ve thought about what I wanted to say. In regards to it. So far, all I have is… Well, I should like to see it. Someday. If you were willing.”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not what I was expecting, but then I’m not sure what I imagined you saying. You’re very different, you know, and I certainly approve of the changes.”

Cullen chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Mm-hm. Good night then.”

“Good night.”

Cullen stayed like that, quiet and still, as if Matthias was a bird he’d been trying to get to perch on his arm. Once Matthias’ breathing even out and he fell back to sleep, Cullen eased him back down onto the cot. He wanted to touch him. To kiss him. To just brush back his hair. Anything. 

But the timing seemed wrong, really. He wanted something better than stolen touches and kisses when Matthias wasn’t entirely aware of what was happening. He wanted more. He wanted everything. But everything could wait until later. Until kissing him would be more appropriate and proper. So he just tucked the blanket around Matthias instead. 

“I really like you too,” Cullen murmured. Then he drifted off to sleep on his own cot.

*

He woke feeling clammy and the thin blanket he’d been using was rather damp with sweat. Disgusting, really. There was a familiar ache in his arms, a throbbing in his head… Nothing unexpected and all of it a bit relentless.

Cullen rounded up his clothes and headed outside. He’d hoped simply to find a creek, but the waterfall was a pleasant discovery. It was, all in all, very nice to be finished with the Western Approach.

He worked on scrubbing his blanket clean before shedding down to his smalls and moving into the water. It was freezing cold, particularly as it tumbled down from the falls above. But there wasn’t much he could do about it and honestly the shock and intensity of it was just what he needed.

Someone cleared his throat nearby, but not at him. “Shove off, Dorian.”

Although the rushing water muffled some of what was said, it wasn’t difficult to tell that Matthias and Dorian were conversing. He glanced at them, making an effort to seem entirely unaware of their presence. Matthias was glaring and Dorian was smirking.

“I mean it.”

“Oh, do be fair, Matthias. I can admire the view. Why, I find that I my appreciation for the Orlesian Dales has increased tenfold and that’s just this morning.”

“Your appreciation can also shove off.”

“Shouldn’t you be pleased that I’m finally enjoying the nature you can’t get enough of.”

“Go enjoy a tree then. Pick some flowers. Keep a look out for birds. Don’t stalk Cullen.”

“At least tell me you plan on--”

“What I plan on doing is clearing out the area of lecherous onlookers and then giving him some coffee.”

Dorian snorted. “Very well, Warden-Commander. I suppose I could be glad to see you’re waiting for him to stop circling around aimlessly.”

“That’s not what he’s doing.”

“I suppose that’s true. Circling around you would make his interest a bit less opaque. However, I am rather curious about yours?”

“About my interest.”

“Yes. Are you choosing him? I’d like to prepare myself for losing to Cullen yet again.”

“Again?”

“Yes. Again. He is surprisingly good at chess. Terrible at Wicked Grace though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind and I don’t… Maybe I am choosing him? Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing, Dorian. Which makes two of us because I don’t think Cullen does either.”

“You’ll sort it out,” Dorian said, sounding a bit more sincere as he clasped Matthias’ shoulder. “That seems to be your specialty.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Not when it comes to Fereldans,” Dorian immediately countered. “Maker’s Breath, but I’ve never encountered a more obvious people in my life. Save the occasional, drunk Rivaini. Speaking of obvious… You’re going to freeze to death, Commander, and where will all of your eavesdropping get you then?”

Cullen glared at Dorian as he stepped out from under the water. “And whose fault would that be?”

Matthias set down a mug and picked up one of the towels Cullen had brought with. His hands glowed a pale orange for a second and then he tossed the towel. “Here.”

It was just a bit warm. Cullen fingered the cloth absently before wrapping it around his waist. “Haven’t you anywhere else to be?” he asked Dorian.

“No,” Dorian said before smirking. “But I’ll make something up just for you. Best of luck with this one, Matthias.” 

Matthias shook his head as his friend left them. “He’s the last of them then.”

“The last of what exactly?”

Matthias rolled his eyes. “You had a bit of a crowd when I first got here.”

Cullen blinked. “I never did.”

“You most certainly did, and I chased them away. I won’t name names, at least not all of them, but I will say that Scout Harding needs more assignments. Urgently. And Bull should be ashamed of himself.”

“I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“No. You’re all right?”

“Cold, but that’s to be expected.”

“You should have told me. I’d have warmed the water up for you. Or...well…” Matthias blushed slightly. “I’d have wanted to.”

“Is there more to that sentence?”

“If there is, I’m hardly telling you.”

Cullen laughed. “Oh? What have I done?”

“I think the question is… What have I done to deserve such slow torture at the hands of such a handsome Fereldan man?” Matthias sighed, looking a bit put out. “But it’s not even your hands.”

“It’s not torture. It’s… I suppose it’s courting. Sort of. There’s no sense rushing into anything.”

“You’re still odd. You must know that.”

“Hm. Perhaps I do, and seeing it’s the exceptionally unusual Hero of Ferelden telling me so… I’ll take it as a compliment.” When Matthias didn’t seem appeased, Cullen added a rather sheepish: “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, and you sound it too. Here,” Matthias took the other towel and gestured for Cullen to duck his head so he could dry his hair. 

“Dorian wasn’t wrong. That water was far too cold.”

“I needed it.”

“Did… I hope I didn’t do this.”

Cullen glanced up. “You?”

“You said you have rough nights. I had a rough night and…”

“This wasn’t you,” Cullen promised. 

“You’re shivering.”

“It’ll stop.”

Matthias frowned, tugging Cullen closer. He draped the towel over Cullen’s shoulders. Then he put his arms around Cullen’s neck and looked at him intently. His dark eyes seemed troubled, but also… fond. Somehow.

“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.

“You should have said something. I’d look after you.” 

“After me?”

“You’re going through so much on your own. You don’t have to.”

“I can manage. I’m all right.”

“I don’t care,” Matthias angrily replied. “Everyone was standing around staring at you, and all they noticed was… And you’re freezing. And you slept poorly. And it’s not right that you just left.”

“I thought it would be easier--”

“Well, it’s not. Look. We’re going to be working together. Very, very closely,” Matthias said in a low murmur. “And I’m hoping it’ll be in every sense of the word so let me look after you. No more of this half-drowning yourself to feel better. Please. If you don’t want magic involved, there’s basins.”

“I don’t mind your magic. I know I have said and felt and believed--”

“Oh enough,” Matthias said, brushing a hand through Cullen’s damp hair. He tugged Cullen a little lower, pressing their foreheads together. “Enough of that. Maker’s Sake, Cullen. What you’ve said and done… It’s not going to change no matter how often you dwell on it. Make better choices. Do better things.” 

“Right.”

“Kirkwall and its Gallows bred despair, desperation, and dysfunction for it mages and for its citizens. A state you were already familiar with. Placing you in a position of authority when you were in such a frame of mind with a Knight-Commander who abused every Rite available to her and allowed everyone else to do the same…”

“And I am part of that everyone else.” 

“Yes,” Matthias agreed, but not unkindly. “You certainly are. You share much of the responsibility given that you were her Knight-Captain, but you seem to be fully aware of it. Whether she used you, whether you did atrocities because they were your orders, it doesn’t change anything. Not for you. "

Matthias sighed as he continued, stroking Cullen’s cheek. "And I know how hard that must be. I know what it’s like to look back on your attempts to just survive another day, and to know that in doing so, you must have contributed to something monstrous. But the only way forward is through it. And I’m so tired of watching people suffer alone and needlessly. Should I probably judge you harshly for what you’ve done? I can’t. I spend my life willingly working alongside worse men than you who have since turned every aspect of themselves around. They’ve become my brothers, my sisters, my mentors… my friends.”

“I cannot ignore or forget what I’ve done, not entirely.”

"I know. So if you want to discuss it because it helps you to be accountable and to atone, that would be one thing. Only that’s not what this is. You’re bringing up your past and you want to tell me everything that transpired to ensure there’s this barrier between us at all times. And I won’t help you with that.”

Cullen considered this for a moment. “I could never account for enough,” he argued. “How could I begin to atone for what we did in Kirkwall?”

Matthias rolled his eyes. “Then congratulations. You don’t have to.”

Cullen blinked.

“You can certainly move past it,” Matthias said, sounding fond. “And you can most certainly stop being so damned wretched about it. Maker, Cullen. I want to be closer to you. I should think that was profoundly obvious.”

“It is rather,” Cullen wryly observed. “I’m not entirely sure we could be any closer.”

Matthias smirked. “I can think of a few ways.”

“Ah. That is…” Cullen cleared his throat. 

Matthias laughed, moving back slightly as he could look at him. “You wouldn’t mind,” he pointed out.

“Well, no. Although I’m not sure this is the right time.”

“I suppose not.” Matthias considered him and then kissed the scar over his lips. Very lightly. Just once. 

When he let Cullen go, Cullen grabbed Matthias. He pulled him back for another kiss. Short, but less gentle and more heated.  
Matthias colored slightly when Cullen finally released him. He moved back, picking up the mug he’d abandoned earlier. “Well, that’s better. Now get dressed. Then drink this coffee. Then have breakfast.”

“I’d certainly like to do all of those things…”

“But?”

“But I’m going to have to ask you to turn around or leave.”

Matthias laughed. “Really? I thought you weren’t shy.”

“I’m not taking my smalls off with you staring at me.”

“That’s a pity.”

Cullen made a spinning motion with his fingers.

Matthias rolled his eyes. He snatched up the towel around Cullen’s neck and held it aloft. “There. I can’t see and neither can anyone else. Not if you’re quick about. So please be quick. I have this rule about not killing people before breakfast.”

Cullen smirked. “Very well. No peeking.”

“How unfair. I’ve seen nearly all of you, you know.”

“Consider yourself fortunate then.”

Matthias chuckled. “Why can’t I see the rest? I’m sure it’s quite impressive.”

“Of course it is. That isn’t up for debate. You viewing it this morning isn’t either.”

“All right. If you need help though, you know where to find me.”

Cullen just laughed.

*


	7. Chapter 7

*

Breakfast consisted mainly of lumpy oatmeal and hard biscuits. The scouts had been sent ahead to round something better for their next meal. 

Hawke and Bull took advantage of the lull that followed as soldiers packed up tents, racing one another across the glade. Hawke had Del on his back and Bull had Cole on one shoulder.

Matthias, Samson, Blackwall, and Dorian were watching. Dorian because initially, and despite rather loud protests, Bull had been carrying him around. Samson because he seemed incapable of being too far away from Del. Matthias because he was trying to do more than simply sit around recovering. Blackwall, because he wanted to talk to Matthias. 

Sera was spying on them from a tree nearby. What she was up to… Cullen hoped he wasn’t there to see, but he usually, inevitably was.

Cassandra sat down next to Cullen. “I heard about your...show.”

“Show?”

“Of sorts,” Cassandra said with an arched brow. “That is what Bull called it. I find it easier not to question. It keeps the conversation moving forward. You are well?”

Cullen shrugged. “Well enough.”

“Tense. Less so than yesterday,” Cassandra noted. “You are fond of him.”

With someone else, he might have avoided answering. But Cassandra was someone he’d come to confide in. Trust. And she already knew because everyone knew. “Yes.”

“It seems to be reciprocated although Hawke seems displeased. Is that because of you or because of Amell’s actions in the Fade?”

“My guess would be both.”

“Your guess is better than mine. I am glad to see him here. Furious, of course, but we have managed without him and would have continued to do so.”

Cassandra had developed a fondness for Del after most of her disappointment had ebbed and then faded. Her drive to avoid failure had not, but she had found some sort of patience and then a very sincere willingness to follow his lead. 

She had pushed for him to be Inquisitor just as hard as Josephine had. Cullen had agreed because of Haven and Redcliffe. They had left too many decisions up to Del and the boy had done an admirable job. It would have been ungrateful and hypocritical to dismiss or replace him. It also had felt wrong to side with Leliana over the others even if she made a rather compelling argument for turning the reins of the Inquisition over to Matthias.

She’d come round when Cullen gently pointed out that he’d never agree. It had been, granted, merely a hunch, but he couldn’t picture Matthias or Hawke doing that. They’d help, they’d fight, they’d even die if it was required, but they wouldn’t lead. Not because they couldn’t but because it wasn’t their place. 

“Hawke is as strange to me in person as he was in Varric’s stories. Just as sarcastic. Perhaps a bit moodier. Very demanding,” Cassandra groused. “He has asked the Inquisitor if Anders might join us… And a Tevinter magister as well.”

“That will be… interesting.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “You assume Del agreed.”

“I know he did, just as I am certain his unofficial and nosy consultant would have pushed for it.” 

Samson and Anders had worked together from time to time. They were of a similar mind or at least two quite compatible ones. And why wouldn’t they work together when Anders had wanted mages free and Samson had wanted Maddox free regardless of any personal cost? 

Doubtlessly they’d struck some sort of deal. In the past, he’d thought about it and often. He never spoke about it though. He didn’t join the other templars in debating what sort of role lyrium had played in securing Samson’s cooperation just as he did not enter into discussions on blood mages. Because there was no debate and there was no discussion when everyone agreed. Just talking for the sake of being heard since listening remained optional. 

Cullen missed many things about the Order, but he did not miss the endless gossip or the tiresome justifications for terrible acts. He would never quite see eye-to-eye with Samson, but he liked the old bastard. They were, in their own way, good friends.

“It is ultimately Del’s decision, and you are correct. He would like them here, but we are going to talk about it. Del isn’t sure we can all be trusted.”

Cullen sighed. “Of course he’s not. Well, I can’t blame him. Not entirely.” 

He hadn’t exactly established much trust between them what with all the arguing after Redcliffe and the slow grudging respect Del had received since then. It also didn’t help matters that Del was fiercely protective of Samson and saw any conflict between them as entirely Cullen’s fault.

“I never thought I would say this, but at least there is some good in having this magister sent for. We have sided already with Tevinter over Nevarra. Archon Radonis will vouch for her.”

“Her?”

“Maevaris Tilani.”

“Oh. I rather liked her letters.”

Cassandra grunted in disgust. “I am not at all surprised.”

“Considering the Venatori forces Orlais and Ferelden contend with, I imagine her Imperium is eager to prove that they aren’t all still living in a bygone age.”

“And Anders?”

Cassandra turned grim. “I cannot say. I suppose it is unlikely he will be much of a problem in of himself. But the Prince of Starkhaven is hardly going to leave the matter alone should he find out.”

“He isn’t much of a credible threat, surely.” As much as Cullen had enjoyed conversing with the man in regards to religion, the last thing this odd reunion of Thedas’ heroes needed was Sebastian Vael.

“We do not need any more enemies.”

Cullen snorted. “Yes, well, this Prince of Starkhaven was willing to annex and all but burn all of Kirkwall to the ground in a misguided effort to locate Anders. I’m not entirely sure we need an ally like that.”

“Del feels strongly that we do not.”

“Then the hope would be to have Anders draw as little attention as possible. He can do that. I suspect even this Maevaris can. They don’t need to stay at Skyhold, and there are more secure, private locations to be found. And Hawke…” 

Cullen looked over to where the man in question was finally setting Del back down on the ground. The younger mage was grinning, the older mage was too… Only there was something exhausted about the expression. Or perhaps just melancholy. There was a certain listlessness to Hawke now that hadn’t been there before.

“He may have a certain flair for the dramatic, but he is not a man to be trifled with. I’m certain he’s just as worried about how will handle their arrival as we are about allowing it.”

Cassandra sighed. “Yes. I suppose the Maker sends these challenges to test us.”

“Let’s hope we pass then,” Cullen wryly replied. “I’m rather tired of failing.”

Cassandra considered him for a moment before speaking. “There is something else I would like to say that is less… related to practical matters.”

“And that would be?”

“I have watched nearly half of the camp come to Amell’s defense. I have watched him do the same for you. I have stayed out of it because it is… foolish. You are grown man and you can handle them. But I want you to know that I will not always be so patient. At some point I will have to defend you.”

“You don’t need--”

“I am not asking, Cullen. I am merely stating a fact. I chose you. I believed you could be more than a paranoid, terrified Knight-Commander of a paranoid, terrified Circle. I chose this Inquisition. I believed we all need to be more than people of faith but also of action. These were both important decisions. They were both the right ones.”

“Thank you.”

“Show your gratitude by not disappointing me. Keep being fond of him. Fall in love. I should like very much to see it.”  
Cullen chuckled. “Out of books again?”

“Even if I had books, I would encourage you to do something with your time besides brooding and paperwork.”

“Yes, well… This is merely a request, right?”

Cassandra smirked as she got to her feet. “Think of it as crucial operation.” 

*

The remainder of the trek had been somewhat vexing. Although Cullen had time with Matthias, they were rarely alone. Stroud was often lurking nearby. When he wasn’t, Dorian was there. And whenever there was a quiet moment, Samson would crop up to spoil it. Bull was around more often than not, but he had a way of becoming a part of any given situation without causing any real issue. Save, of course, for Matthias’ obvious fondness of the Qunari and the casual way they touched over and over again.

There was a small part of Cullen that held out hope that they arrival at Skyhold might afford him a little time to make some progress in regards to Cassandra’s suggestions. Or to try for longer conversations which might, in turn, result in more kisses with fewer interruptions. He had his own quarters, after all. While the tower wasn’t exactly private and had far too many doors for Cullen’s liking, each of them had at least one deadbolt. 

However, this hope quickly dashed by Del’s desire for a meeting, but then a fortnight had come and gone since he’d last spoken to all of his advisors at once. 

Josephine had just returned from a fairly successful diplomatic operation in a vaguely more hospitable part of Orlais, and they started their meeting with her briefing. In addition to the normal attendees, Hawke, Matthias, and Stroud were present as well.

Leliana had a number of important missives and new assignments. One of her letters concerned the Grey Wardens as well. She mentioned this with a rather pointed look to Amell. She had all but hit him when they returned, and seemed rather unhappy with him. To put it mildly. Cullen wasn’t sure how exactly she would feel about his own involvement with Matthias, but he wasn’t all that eager to find out just yet. He’d consult Josephine first. 

“It is from the First Warden. He wishes for the Warden-Commander to come to Weisshaupt. He does not specify which Warden-Commander.”

“Meaning you could have me promoted and sent off to the Anderfels,” Stroud speculated. “I would not mind.”

“And why would I do that?” Matthias countered, looking at Leliana. “Send another when it is obvious I am the one he would wish to speak with? Clarel is dead, and what has happened here… It must be reported. Once Erimond is judged, of course.”

“And what of your rather secretive side project?” Stroud asked.

“Resumed upon my return.”

“Assuming you even return,” Hawke pointed out.

“I will go alone, and there will be no reason to keep me,” Matthias said. “My departure wouldn’t change anything. The remaining Grey Wardens of Ferelden and Orlais would continue to help out in whatever capacity they can.”

“You have heard nothing from the First Warden,” Hawke pointed out. “Not one word or order has come from Weisshaupt since this False Calling.”

“And the Anderfels is a long way from here, brother,” Stroud gruffly pointed out. “To send you alone would be impractical. There is also another matter to consider.”

“Which is?” Matthias asked. His expression was hard to read but his tone was icy.

“While I have always been thankful for your methods, the First Warden has always been rather skeptical,” Stroud added, eventually turning his gaze to the rest of the group. “Amell’s proposed solution to the taint in our blood is not something he would approve of.”

“I am not in need of so much protection. It is not for the First Warden to report to me but for me to report to him. It is what’s expected of--”

“It won’t work,” Cullen interjected, frowning when Matthias glared at him. “The remaining Grey Wardens of Ferelden and Orlais have agreed to work with the Inquisition. We lost more troops than you can imagine laying siege to Adamant. I realize there is a need to report back to your direct superiors… But at this moment? To allow any of you to make a pilgrimage to the Anderfels would be a significant waste of resources. And potentially dangerous.”

“A dangerous waste of resources?” Matthias questioned. “When I would be the only one going?”

“You are the only Warden-Commander we’ve got. We need you here to help with the other Wardens and to help me with providing them with the proper orders--”

“Is that why?” Matthias angrily demanded. “Or is there another less--”

“Don’t,” Samson suggested, his tone just as hostile. “He’s not like that, and you damn well know it.”

“If he isn’t then he ought to admit that there is no compelling reason to keep me here when I--”

“You were injured and poisoned by a massive demon controlled by a darkspawn magister,” Cullen said, frustrated and baffled by the accusation. Or, rather, the insinuation. “I don’t know if you remember that, but I think the rest of us do and quite clearly. You are still recovering. In point of fact, you could barely walk on your own mere days ago. Since our return you haven’t been examined by healers so we don’t even know if you’re fit for any sort of active duty. 

“Then there is also, as I’ve mentioned earlier, the fact that you are the only means in which we have to provide a bunch of scared, overwhelmed, recently corrupted Grey Wardens with any sense of unity, purpose, and confidence. You’re also training the Inquisitor in various schools as well as other forms of instruction from which he is greatly benefitting. Are those sufficient reasons? If not, how many more would you like?”

Matthias blinked. “I…”

“Matthias,” Del said, looking hesitant but he didn’t shirk back when Matthias stared at him. “Cullen commands all of our forces. He isn’t trying to be unfair or unreasonable. We can’t send you. I don’t see why we ought to send Stroud if that is the only reason we can find to promote him. And I can’t, in all honesty, stop you. All I can do is ask you to reconsider. To stay. And, Matthias... If you go, Hawke would trail after you.” 

“I would,” Hawke cheerfully admitted, patting his glum cousin on the back. “And then Anders would have to follow us. And Maevaris. And whatever cats they’ve found. Possibly some street urchins. Oh, and Dorian most likely. And Bull.”

Cassandra scoffed. “Sweet Andraste, are you going to Weisshaupt Fortress or to a Village Fair?” 

“Why not both?” Hawke asked.

Del cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it’s rather painful to say this after that little exchange. But I can’t afford to lose Hawke. So the First Warden will have to content himself with a note from me. Or, rather, Josephine. If he doesn’t like it, well, neither did the Prince of Starkhaven. There are urgent matters that need tending to here.”

Del had been growing a bit more confident and this was a rather pleasant turn of events. He hadn’t looked to anyone, not even Samson, before making a decision. Although Cullen imagined Del would still flounder a bit in terms of rendering Judgments.

Matthias considered the matter, rubbing one hand over his forehead. He was angry, and he was taking no effort to hide his frustration. And why would he? He’d saved the world from a blight a mere ten years ago. And how many orders had ever been issues to the Hero of Ferelden?

“Let me make something clear,” Matthias said, striving for calm. “I do not answer to you. I do not answer to the First Warden. Not to Cullen. Not to my cousin. Not to anyone, however well-meaning, if it is not my will.”

“Of course,” Del said meekly. He offered up a hopeful little smile.

Matthias eyed him irritably before sighing. And then relenting. “You know this, and you asked me to stay. So I will remain here, Inquisitor, and I will assist your Commander. Mostly out of a fondness for you, and the need to complete your training. But it is also because I have no real desire to traipse through the Anderfels with or without so many extra, unnecessary companions as though I were on the first of many exotic parade floats.” 

“Perhaps…” Leliana mused, smirking slightly. “Well, I had thought to wait to share this news for it is rather good or at least promises to be entertaining.”

“And that is?”

“You also have an invitation. From the King of Ferelden. We have exchanged letters at a rather rapid rate over the past fortnight. His Majesty was informed, admittedly by an unreliable source, that you’d met with a grisly end. He was vexed.”  
Matthias’ expression softened and he toyed with a ring that Cullen hadn’t noticed before. It was relatively plain. Silverite. 

“Rumors of my death? I don’t suppose you know if Eamon and his charming wife had a good cackle before you spoiled their fun.”

“I could not say. King Alistair wishes to meet with you and the Inquisitor, of course. In the Hinterlands. Since our last   
visit, Redcliffe has been restored to some semblance of order.”

“I should like to visit with the King,” Del said, looking a bit excited. 

“It could not hurt now that we’ve established ourselves a bit more,” Cassandra added.

“It would also be important to reward those willing to speak with us without much of an ulterior motive,” Josephine said with a smile. “He’s not demanding we turn anyone over nor is he trying to tell us what to do. But I imagine news of your...well, adventures in near-death experiences has reached him.”

Matthias laughed. “Yes, I’m sure it has. Well, I have no qualms with being scolded by Alistair. It will hardly be the first time.”

Although, Cullen suspected, Matthias was still not very pleased about what Cullen had said.

“Maybe the last?” Del asked.

“If it is, it will hardly be thanks to the King,” Stroud said with a smirk. “He is not nearly as intimidating as the First Warden. Or Hawke.”

“Embarrassing is the word that comes to mind,” Matthias muttered.

Hawke grinned. “Oh now… I bet the First Warden wouldn’t like to be informed of that.”

Matthias simply rolled his eyes.

*


	8. Chapter 8

*

After a few other general matters were resolved, the Grey Wardens were dismissed. The state of the Inquisition was discussed at length. Assignments were divided up between the three advisors and these operations were marked off by Cullen on the War Table. Samson snorted, but didn’t say anything. 

As far as plans were concerned, the trip back to Orlais, specifically to Halamshiral, would keep for the time being.   
Del had plans to hunt dragons in the interim and help out in the Fallow Mires and Crestwood. He did not seem pleased to find he needed to be taught appropriate manners, but he seemed excited at the possibility of dancing when Cullen brought it up. Samson looked murderous.

When the meeting ended, Cullen found himself abandoning his paperwork in his office and giving curt answers to scouts before trying to locate Matthias’ quarters.

However, none of the servants or stewards seemed to be entirely certain as to where his rooms were. 

Most of the Grey Wardens would be living in a tower off of the courtyard where Del was attempting to grow a garden. Matthias was not among them. 

Cullen considered the strange herbs growing in large clay pots, the small flowering plants growing around the center of the open space. It could be something someday was about as much as he could say for it. But then tending to it was hardly as important as dealing with the threats to all of Thedas.

Then he considered the small Chantry nearby. As much as his life had been defined by being a templar, he didn’t resent the institution that had made him little better than a paranoid addict for years on end. He still enjoyed praying, particularly if he could do so undisturbed by anyone. 

That included the rather well-meaning Mother Giselle. In fact, he would have preferred sharing a pew with Samson to her hovering over him. She always seemed far too concerned about the way things appeared to be. 

It was rather a pleasant surprise to pass by the open door and find Matthias inside. He was on bended knee near the statue of Andraste, his hands together as he murmured a verse from the Canticle of Trials: “Who knows me as You do? You have been there since my first breath. You have seen me when no other would recognize my face. You composed the cadence of my heart.”

Matthias gently rose to his feet. He ran his fingertips lightly over the wicks of several candles, lighting them gently one by one. 

Cullen found himself staring at the silverite ring again, wondering where it had come from and if it meant anything at all.   
But his gaze quickly returned to Matthias as it often did.

When Matthias glanced up, his expression was not overtly hostile, but it was neither particularly warm nor inviting. “Are you here to chase me out?” he asked. 

“No, I--”

Matthias sighed heavily. “That was unworthy of me. And in a Chantry of all places. Oh, Cullen.” He shook his head, moving away from the candles. “I’m sorry. About this and about earlier. I behaved quite poorly, and I was...”

“Angry,” Cullen supplied when Matthias remained silent. “Frustrated. It’s all right. I imagine you felt a little trapped. We did gang up on you somewhat…”

“I’m unused to being told what to do,” Matthias admitted. “And recovering from such grave injuries only serves to bring me back to old memories.” 

_And older wounds_ , Cullen thought.

“I do not wish to be reminded of those days, not really. So I am… I suppose you’re right. I am keenly frustrated.”

“I have moments like that too.”

Matthias chuckled bitterly. “Where you accuse a good, handsome man you wish to be involved with of absolutely untoward ulterior motives simply because he’s expressed a sincere and gentle interest in you?”

“Not that exact scenario,” Cullen admitted. “But there are some days when…” He sighed. “Well, without the lyrium, I can be a bit… gruff. Not to mention irrational.” And more besides.

“Oh. I see. Sort of.”

“You will,” Cullen wryly muttered. He didn’t care to go into all of the unpleasant side effects, but, with his rotten luck, Matthias would see all of them in time. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Much of the venom has been… purged. But I still tire rather easily. That should pass, and I really hope you won’t keep me here all of the time. If you need to send me out on missions, I’m available.”

“We’ll have to see if there’s anything that truthfully warrants sending you along as an operative.” Cullen could hardly say he much preferred keeping Matthias with him. Or, at least, he wasn’t entirely sure that was an admission he ought to make just yet. “I rarely get to leave Skyhold myself. Most operations simply require troops or scouts. And I imagine you’ll be focusing on that cure of yours.”

“Once Maevaris arrives with the ingredients I need.”

“Oh?”

“She’s got the coin for it and she’s usually willing to help. Besides, I’ll need Anders to help me test it along with Stroud.”

“And yourself?”

“Yes although… I have to admit I’ve… Well, my reaction to the taint has been mild since Fort Drakon. Save for the nightmares, of course.”

“Something to do with the Archdemon?”

“Something,” Matthias admitted.

Cullen could tell there a bit more to that, but he decided not to pry. “Well, I can’t say I’m sad to hear you’re doing well.”

Matthias shrugged. “Even this false Calling wasn’t very severe although it was quite convincing in terms of its timing. It’s been ten years since the blight. I’m surprised I’ve made it this long.”

Cullen frowned. “Let’s not go borrowing trouble.” 

“Fair enough.”

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere. The gardens are shaping up. Or the battlements would do.”

“Yes, Commander,” Matthias said, looking slightly fond. 

“Before we decide… Can I ask what brought you here?”

Matthias smiled reassuringly. “You can. I’ve always liked this,” he said, gesturing around them. “The ritual. The words. The weight of them. It’s comforting. Does that seem odd? I know some of my companions thought so.”

Cullen shook his head. “It makes perfect sense in a way. Considering everything you’ve been through and all that you are… Well, it’s probably hard to think of any other force greater than yourself.”

Matthias huffed out a quiet laugh. “Oh, please. There are many forces greater than myself.”

“None of them readily come to mind.”

“I, along with the rest of Thedas, hope that yours is.”

Cullen frowned. “Mine?”

Matthias grinned. “The one you lead.”

“Ah,” Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. That one. I’d rather forgotten about that. Along with most things.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes.”

Matthias chuckled. “You’re right. We should continue our discussion further away from here.”

“Perhaps. Although I’m reminded of another verse,” Cullen said with a hint of a smirk. If he was going to be so easily flustered, he had more than half a mind to do the same to Matthias. “Of the ways in which we can know the Maker.”

“And that is?”

Cullen closed the space between them. “In the empty space,” he recited against the shell of Matthias’ ear, “where our hearts hunger for a forgotten face.” 

“...Oh,” Matthias managed. “Um. We should go then, right? Unless you’ve come in here to pray.”

“No, I came in here for you,” Cullen admitted. “I prayed earlier, and I’m sure I’ll pray again. Later.”

“Oh good,” Matthias said, obviously pleased that Cullen was following him out of the Chantry. “In that case, let’s visit Shadow in the stables. Then, if work doesn’t find you, we can see how the stars look from the battlements.”

*

Shadow seemed to be making fast friends with Blackwall. He didn’t mind her curling up near his stool or gnawing on a grisled bone that had come from Maker only knew where.

In the small fire nearby, Cullen spotted several chair legs that seemed entirely flawless. But then Blackwall was a bit of a perfectionist. 

Matthias smiled, answering Blackwall’s few questions about whether he’d be staying with the Inquisition. He patted Shadow’s head and eyed the carved griffin. “That’s rather sweet.”

“Unfinished. I’m not sure what’s it for, truth be told. A bit of nonsense, I guess.”

“We need that from time to time,” Matthias said with an encouraging smile. “I rather like it.”

“Thank you, Warden-Commander.”

Cole was up on the battlements, teetering precariously close to the edge. He hopped down, eying Cullen warily and staring at Matthias. He disappeared shortly after that. If he said anything, Cullen didn’t catch it.

“I have such a way with people,” Matthias muttered, sitting on the edge of the wall. “It’s a wonder anyone wants to be around me.”

“And yet many people do.”

Matthias laughed. “You don’t like that at all.”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“You’ll be quite upset then when we visit the King. He’s fond of me as well.”

“Is the ring from him?” Cullen asked, before he could think better of it.

Matthias tilted his head. “It is. I suppose you noticed it earlier. Here.” He summoned up a small, blue wisp and held the ring out to Cullen. “This isn’t my strongest spell, but you’ll be able to see it.”

It was silverite, but it wasn’t entirely plain. A griffin was engraved on the band. Inside, were initials. Both sets were familiar albeit for different reasons. For a moment Cullen wanted to toss the damn thing out into the darkness.

“We were… I suppose…” Matthias said with a small smile. “We’ve always been close. We went through so much. It’s a bit different now, but I’ll be glad to see him again.”

“Right. You ought to have this back,” Cullen said, shoving the ring into Matthias’ outstretched palm.

“You can ask, and if you do… Yes, we have been lovers,” Matthias said quietly. “It was comforting during the blight. Perfect. There were nightmares and I was suddenly making all of these decisions. And Alistair... He’s reliable, loyal… good. We could have had something, and that would have been good too. But I made a mess of things for us.”

Cullen frowned, jealously briefly overshadowed by sudden concern. He wanted something with Matthias because of course he did. He wanted it to be better than whatever Matthias could have with someone else, but Cullen hadn’t gotten around to saying as much. And he didn’t like how hurt Matthias seemed. A hero deserved a bit more happiness than Matthias seemed to have cultivated thus far. 

“How so?”

Matthias smiled wistfully before getting rid of the wisp. It was hard to see him with only the moon and stars as light, but that was rather the point. “I made him king. What we are now… We’re friends. The best of friends.”

Cullen sat down next to Matthias, setting a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“You mean it,” Matthias said quietly. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. Usually…” He trailed off and laughed. “Well, there is no usually. I don’t discuss it much. Or at all.”

“Why tell me?”

Matthias offered up a shaky sigh. “Because you asked. Because you listen. Because I want you to know me. It’s all so lonely at times. Having to be… It’s just that I do the best I can, just like anyone else. And yet somehow it’s always such a great big deal. It’s always too much. It always makes someone else feel small.”

“That’s on them though. That’s their problem,” Cullen said putting his arm around Matthias’ shoulders. “I suppose they find it easier to take it out on you. I never meant--”

“You never have. What happened, what you said to me, that was ten years ago, Cullen.” Matthias shook his head. “You had been through a terrible ordeal. I’ve wished you well many times since then. I’ve wondered from time to time if you have ever managed to heal from the experience, but I didn’t dwell on your words. Or you. So much happened. So many people needed something from me.”

Cullen nodded, mulling this over. It was, despite being unsurprisingly, a bit of a relief. He blinked a bit when a hand brushed lightly against his cheek, glancing up at Matthias.

“I never saw you as an enemy, as failure, as someone corrupted beyond mending. I’m sure that’s how you’ve seen yourself, and I am truly sorry if that is the case. But when I saw you there in Kinloch Hold, I saw only a young man struggling against literal demons. And now when I look at you, I wonder where he went because you’re so different, Cullen.” 

“Thank you,” Cullen said, and after a moment of quiet, he added: “I never realized how strong you were. Determined. Brave. I just thought you were sweet. Kind. Gentle because I thought that was so important for a mage to be. And when you saved me, I couldn’t make sense of you in relation to what I’d seen or endured. How could you be kind or sweet or innocent when the one who looked like you had been so cruel and cunning and and knowing? And if you were real… If you were strong and powerful, all that meant to me was that you were dangerous too. But I was wrong, and I swear--”

“You don’t need to swear anything, Cullen. I believe you. I never thought you meant those words for me,” Matthias gently insisted. “Even if you did, that young man is gone, Cullen. You’re so much more than he was, and I’m glad of it.”

“Thank you,” Cullen said quietly. He turned a bit so that he was looking at Matthias. Then he kissed him. It was a good and gentle if insistent kiss. One born from an urgent need to make the past, and all of the mess that came along with, fade away if only for a little while. 

Matthias moved closer, returning it once he was in Cullen’s arms and all but in Cullen’s lap. 

They stayed like that even when the kiss ended. Cullen took Matthias’ hand in his and considered the stars.

“Do you see any constellations?” Matthias asked after awhile. “I never seem to be able to manage it.”

“I can see the Sword of Mercy, which is… I suppose, unsurprising,” Cullen murmured, endeavoring to point out the proper stars. Then he frowned, trying to make out other patterns in the heavens. The breach made a jumble of some constellations, but he was able to locate: “And Voyager.”

“What’s the one look like?”

“A boat. Of an ancient design, I suppose? There’s probably more to that story--”

“You think?” Matthias asked, and he sounded amused.

“But,” Cullen continued, “I only read _A Study of Thedosian Astronomy_ when I was in need of sleep.”

Matthias smiled fondly. “I bet Del could quote passages from it, but then he seems to like stars. And plants. I like him.”

“It’s a good reason to stay.”

“It is.”

“Would this be a terrible time to ask to kiss you again?”

Matthias was silent for a moment. “No only… It’s just…”

Cullen patiently waited.

“Can we keep doing this? Talking, I mean. Being together. I’d like to. If you would.”

“I would,” Cullen assured him. He found it a little depressing that Matthias felt the need to ask. Did past lovers change so much once they’d moved past kissing to other activities? And why? At the same time, he was rather selfishly glad of it. 

Matthias nodded.

Cullen brushed his fingers against one of Matthias’ cheeks. “And I would still like to kiss you.”

“I’d like that too.”

“Then… Might you consider bringing that wisp back for this one? I’d like to see your face a bit better.”

Matthias did as Cullen asked, looking pleased by the simple suggestion.

Cullen stood, tugging Matthias with him, away from the ledge. Once they found a taller section of stonewall, he lightly pushed Matthias against it, kissing at the corner of his mouth and then his lips.

When they finally parted on the battlements, each returning to separate quarters, Cullen imagined the ache he felt in… well, various locations, was shared by Matthias as well.

*


End file.
